Dark History
by Einsam-Schatten
Summary: If Hetalia was more realistic, none of the characters would be so happy. (Current topic: Holocaust Concentration camps)
1. Full cemeteries

**A series of dark Hetalia tales that have to do with dark parts of history. I'll be using this whenever I'm not sure how to update my other stories, because that happens a lot...**  
><strong>-<strong>  
>Agonizing screams and loud sobbing was not uncommon to come from the Miller home. It was a medium sized estate, located less than a half mile from the cemetery. And it was rarely ever quiet. It was the doctor's home, that's why. All day, Jordan Miller and his little, clingy assistant, Alfred Jones, worked on patients. Surgery, disinfecting wounds, or simple check ups. Always so busy.<p>

...

Alfred breathed frantically as he ran, carrying a dripping rag along with him. He quickly hopped up the steps and opened the door. Weak whimpering become audible. Rounding the corner into the spare room, he saw the pitiful scene. A girl, no older than him, wheezing, coughing, sweating, huffing, with a pink face. She shook and gripped the bedsheets, as if it'd comfort her somehow. Dr. Millers was mixing herbs before he noticed his young helper.

"Boy, get in, hurry up with that rag!"

He nodded with a sound to replace the word "yes" and placed the wet rag on the sick child's head. She sighed in relief, but still looked uncomfortable. The fever could barely be controlled, with not much help from the cool piece of cloth, and her chest and lungs refused to function properly. The girl looked at Alfred with desperate, pleading eyes. Something most patients have given the boy, but it was different seeing it from a child his age. He bit his lips.

"Mr. Miller, what're you mixing there?" Alfred asked.

The doctor shook his head.

"I'm testing mixes, I don't know what else to do."

Alfred glanced over at the shaking, wheezing child. Then back at Miller.

"She'll die?" he asked quietly.

"...yes, most likely..." he answered with a grimace.

The girl hacked loudly, spewing out blood in all directions. Alfred took his dirty handkerchief and gently wiped the sticky, crimson substance off of her face. She shook at the touch, and curled up into a small ball. She glanced at Dr. Miller, then at Alfred, then down at her shivering body. She looked so sufferable. It was too hard to look at, it brought tears to Alfred's eyes.

"I-I'm sorry..." he whispered. "We can't save you...I...I am really sorry..."

Miller looked over at Alfred.

"I'm going out to get the parents. They should be informed."

Alfred nodded shakily as his superior stepped out of the room. He looked back to the girl who was gazing at him. She smiled weakly before coughing painfully once again. Alfred took out his dirty handkerchief once more and cleaned her face.

"It...s...o...k...ay..." she managed to mutter.

He shook his head.

"No it's not! One patient after the other, everyone dies, the cemeteries are crowding, I don't know what to do, these horrid diseases are absolutely impossible to cure!" he cried.

The girl's bone fingers felt for Alfred's arm. She grasped it as hard as her weak body could grasp.

"It...s...o...k...ay..." she repeated. Her reassurance was failing to cheer him up.

He shook his head again but didn't argue.

He felt her hold on his arm loosen. He noticed her eyes losing light. They slowly dimmed until she looked absolutely lifeless. Before her heart completely stopped, a small stream of blood began to drip out of her mouth. Alfred stood there for a moment before pushing down the dead child's eyelids. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two coins, and he put them over the closed eyelids.

About four minutes later, Dr. Miller came in with a man and a woman. They looked over at the lifeless girl and the boy sitting against the wall, looking completely lost.

**-**

**Okay! So, earlier United States of America. At that time, new diseases were settling in that they weren't medically prepared for. Often, people who got sick, like with the flu or even the common cold, didn't make it. Especially children. Most of the medicine that existed at the time was to "keep things in", "push things down", or "push things up", so the immune system did most of the work in healing. Because of all of this, cemeteries crowded. That, and accidents, like hatchet accidents and stuff. Interesting fact, they used leeches to suck out infection from the wounds. It was very helpful.**


	2. I want Moscow!

**This chapter is based off of a small bit of the Muscovite-Lithuanian Wars (Moscow/Muscovy/Russia versus Lithuania). This is NOT completely historically accurate. It is made different and more dramatic to represent how things went, rather than be literal. By the way, it's a bit rushed. I want these to be speedy...sorry.**

**-**

Muscovy panted and wheezed as he raced through the snow as fast as he could. He was held back a little by his bandaged legs and arms. His face was pink from his rushing blood pressure. He approached his Muscovite forces who looked at him in confusion from their thin tents. The boy fell to his knees and gasped for breath. After a bit of coughing and frantic breathing, he looked up at the staring men.

"L...Lithu...Lithuanian forces..." he took in a few breaths again "they have come...come...come back! The border...it's..."

The men didn't need to hear anymore. The higher ranking soldiers barked out orders and the men scurried around the camp.

Muscovy took his carving dagger out of his pocket. He couldn't afford any weapons, being extremely poor at the moment. But if it could cut wood, it could cut flesh.

Before long, the small army was marching towards the border. The air felt tense. The  
>Lithuanian army was actually quite strong. They'd need to fight hard or die.<p>

Muscovy ran ahead. He stood on top of a snowy hill and stood on his tiptoes. With a squint, he focused in on the group of dots which he had already assumed to be...

"LITHUANIANS!" he shouted behind him. The men immediately took positions behind the pine trees. They held their weapons in readied positions, being sure to be ready for their surprise attack. Muscovy made sure to be the closest to the marching army, as he wanted to be the first to see his little Lithuanian "friend" and face it off with him, personally.

They waited a patient ten minutes. A hard, painful ten minutes.

Boots stomping became louder until it was right there. Everyone held their breath. Muscovy glanced over to the commander. The small child gave him a nod. The commander singled to his soldiers.

'Three...two..."

_SHING!_

Everyone did a silent gasp of horror as the commanders head was suddenly not attached to his neck. Blood spurted from the "hole". Muscovy found himself nearly puking. The Lithuanian army stopped.

They knew they were there.

"A-ATTACK!" Muscovy cried out.

And in a flash, people sprang out everywhere, and it turned into a bloody scene.

Muscovy watched in horror as his men were practically ripped to shreds. His whole body shook as he slowly crouched down onto his knees, holding his hands down into the painfully freezing snow. Next to him, a red blade pierced the ground. A sword. Something that Muscovy would give to have in his position. He looked at the blade, then his gaze rose to the owner of the blade. Another boy, about his same age, stared down at him with cold eyes. His facial expression was very serious. His being was dotted with splotches of blood. Muscovy felt himself shake.

"Stand, Braginski."

Muscovy stood, bearing his carving knife. Lithuania snorted back a chuckle. It'd been the first time he'd seen someone with a carving knife as a weapon.

Muscovy grimaced. He lunged at Lithuania who stepped away, causing Muscovy to land face-first in the snow. He spat out the cold substance and stood once again. He lunged the knife at the country once again. His bony wrist was caught. Lithuania took the opportunity to strike him in the chest with his magnificent sword. The speedy blade ripped his clothing and flesh. Tears welled up in Muscovy's eyes as he cried out in pain. He began lunging over and over again, all blows being dodged. His breathing labored by each swipe. When he finally succeeded in cutting the boy's cheek, he collapsed onto the ground. Lithuania touched his cheek. It stung horribly. He looked at his finger to see the blood. Glaring down at Muscovy, he stood directly in front of him.

With the tip of his blade, he raised the young nations head up to where they were making eye contact.

"Give up, Ivan. I'll be taking this land."

"Why m-must you?! It's mine!" Muscovy shrieked. Lithuania made a "Tsk" sound.

"Stand."

"Toris..."

"Stand!"

Muscovy did so.

"I will not lose! Do you hear me, you Russian freak?! I will take this land!"

Lithuania angrily swiped at Muscovy, who had no time to dodge and no shield. Swipe after swipe after swipe, red lines formed all over him. He whimpered. He hated this bullying. Everyone bullied him. Mongolia, Teutonic Knights, Lithuania, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, sometimes even China! Muscovy plopped onto his bottom and burst into tears.

"S-Stop hurting me! I'll give you something! Just please, stop!"

The child was oozing blood. It trickled down his face, arms, chest, stomach, legs...and soaked itself into the snow.

"No...no...I want all of Moscow! I don't want something! Ever since 1368, I've known, I want Mosocw!"

"Take it! T-Take my land! Just promise you won't hurt me!"

Lithuania glared at Muscovy.

"Only for now, Ivan. Hand over your land, now."

Muscovy didn't like the sound of "for now." He frowned and shook his head.

"Well, then I guess we'll have a problem there. I'm not going without you, Ivan. Muscovy is mine."

...

...

_Muscovy sat in a guarded hut, shaking violently. He was holding his knees, whining in pain with his eyes clenched a shut. His body was burnt into hideous colors and absolutely disgusting looking wrinkles and flakes. What wasn't painfully charred was open and infected badly. _

_ "Toris...why...Toris...why...Toris...why..." he repeated like a broken record._

_ Light flooded into the hut as the wooden door opened. The person approaching roughing grabbed his arm, causing him to scream loudly. He was tossed out of the hut._

_ "We no longer need you," a man said._

_ Muscovy didn't responded._

_ "Your boss has requested you be returned."_

_ "H...Hurts..."_

_**-**_****

**Despite what they say in Hetalia, Lithuania was the bully at the time. Lithuania pursued Moscow a few times, and beat it up pretty bad. Eventually, Moscow was captured and burnt. Hence why Muscovy's skin is burnt.**


	3. I-I want to be happy, too!

**Time for my FAVORITE historical event! The Holocaust. By favorite, I don't mean I like the Holocaust in general, I just like learning about it! Please don't take that the wrong way!**

**By the way, this is also very quick.  
>Warning: Sensitive themes (as in, if the Holocaust is a very bothersome topic for you, don't read this), character death, history lesson (AHHH, learning!)<strong>

Feliks scrapped his dish and ate it greedily. The mush tasted horrible and it was sure to give him stomach pains or diarrhea, but alls that mattered now was that he was hungry as hell. He set his tin down in front of him and watched as the other people managed to consume the nasty food. A few people began to vomit and gag. Others curled up into a little ball. Children refused the food. They were going to regret that later, he knew. Or maybe not. Starving to death didn't sound to bad right now. His stomach roared angrily at him. He frowned. Must his body be so demanding?

He looked at the angle of the sun. It was about time. Like everyday, he sat and waited for the trolley to come through. Why do they not create another route? he asked himself bitterly.

The trolley began to roll in. The people in it wrinkled their noses in disgust. A few pointed. Some teased. Feliks glared.

"Momma, why do these people all look like that? Are they poor?" a little girl asked loudly.

"No, sweetie, they're not people."

Then does that make us animals? Feliks silently wondered.

"Oh my, how revolting!"

"They're getting what they deserve, for sure."

"Thank god for this camp! Who knows what we'd do with these creatures running the streets!"

Feliks attempted to throw a stone at the trolley, but it barely went far, with his weak and frail arms not holding enough muscle.

He got up and left his spot with a huff. Maybe Toris will be around, he thought.

He walked through the camp for an hour, trying to locate his friend. Asking around, he finally got a clue.

"Toris!" he called.

There was no reply.

"Hm...it sounded like he'd be here..."

There were huge piles of smashed up cement blocks scattered all over. He pushed over the shattered blocks in search of his friend.

"Toris!" he called frantically.

"Please God...Please please please please let Toris be okay!" he prayed in desperation.

His eyes darted over to the fencing in the background. Nearby, he saw a bony figure (hah, imagine that) lying down in a curled up position.

"Toris...Toris! Please tell me that's you!" he exclaimed happily as he ran over. His smile faded when the person did not respond to what he said.

He crouched over the person and moved his head to where he could see his face. He gasped. And then froze in shock.

This person was dead. This person killed himself. This person is...

"T-Toris..." he whimpered.

"Toris..."

"TORIS!" he cried.

Hot tears streamed down his face. This was his friend. His only friend. The only person he had left.

"Why did you leave me?! Not you too! Mama! Papa! Toris! Why?! It's not fair!" he howled. He shook Toris in hopes that he'd wake from his death sleep. There'd be no hope of restarting his heart. Those electric fences could kill the toughest person alive.

"...is he happy now..." he asked quietly as he let go of his dead friend.

"Can...Can I be happy now, too? Please?"

...

...

That night, everyone was awaken by barking guards, commanding them to go into march. Feliks kept his eyes clenched shut most of the time. So many gun shots. Stop. Stop!

He dared not fall behind. He didn't want a bullet hole in his back.

The march stopped at a weird looking structure. He wondered what it was. Meanwhile, many of the older prisoners screamed in horror. They were all forced into the weird building. The doors were locked shut.

He began to hyperventilate.

They were dumping something in. What was this?

He fell to his knees. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Then everything turned black.

-

**Into the concentration camps.**

**In concentration camps, the people were served small, non-nutritional helpings of food. This led to sicknesses in the stomach and bowels.**

**Some concentration camps in Poland had trolleys that'd go through, and the people in them would sometimes ride them to sneer at the prisoners.**

**They had poor living conditions and were forced to do labor. It was so harsh and stressful, that some people didn't wait for death, and committed suicide by throwing themselves into the electrical fences, like Toris.**

**As for the marches into the strange building...marches into the gas chamber. Many times, the prisoners would be tricked by the soldiers, who'd say it was just a shower. They'd step in, get locked in, and get killed by the toxic gases. Their bodies would be stripped of everything they had.**

**Pretty sad, yes?**


End file.
